Work Text:
Geralt grumbled to himself as he descended into the valley, shoes getting muddier and muddier as he went. It felt like he was carrying ten extra pounds with him each time he picked up his boots, that much mud was caked onto the bottoms. It would take him ages to dig all the mud out once he was done. He couldn’t complain too much, though. The pay for this job was very generous.
The townsfolk up the mountain had begged and pleaded with a fat sac of coin for him to rid them of the incessant wailing coming from the flooded town down in the valley. The mayor explained with bags under his eyes that whatever was down there howled at all hours of the night and well into the morning, only stopping in mid afternoon and starting up again in the early evening. It had started two weeks ago when the dam had broken and flooded the valley and half of the town that inhabited it.
Geralt had to agree, the singing had not stopped since he set out early in the morning. While it was not unpleasant, it was also hard to concentrate on anything besides it. As he got closer, he was able to pick out several voices joined together, each singing in harmony to wail their tunes to the sky and the strum of an instrument keeping all the voices in tune. Geralt drew his silver sword as he finally reached the cobblestone streets that led into the town. He didn’t think he would need it; he had a good idea of what was down here, but it never hurt to be prepared and more than one creature might have inhabited this abandoned town. He passed building after building, following the wailing closer to the source. The sheer volume of it hurt his sensitive ears and he growled, annoyed.
The singing immediately stopped, and he heard several loud splashes followed by ear ringing silence.
“Fuck.”
He ran ahead into an open square. Half had been collapsed and tilted into the water. He could see wet spots where several bodies had been sitting at the water’s edge. There was a lute propped up out of the water and a trail of drops leading away into the water. He hummed and picked his way across broken boards and stone. He took the lute into his hands and studied it. Whomever it belonged to was taking good care of it, the wood was oiled nicely, and the strings well kept. He had an idea and sheathed his sword, keeping the lute in his hands as he walked away.
“This will make good coin,” He muttered to himself, only speaking just loud enough to be picked up at the water’s edge.
He heard a very faint splash in the water but ignored it, picking his way along the bank until he ducked into an alleyway that led into the ocean. He propped the lute up on the stair just out of the water and promptly stripped himself bare, re-strapping a silver dagger to his thigh before wading into the cold depths. Water lapped at his chest by the time he was fully submerged. His ears picked up a faint splash behind him but he didn’t turn. Proceeding with washing himself, he allowed the shadow to creep down the steps closer and closer to the lute.
He caught sight of a naked man in his peripheral, young, with brown hair dripping and plastered to his face and bright blue eyes, fixated on the lute, wet fingers reaching out to grab it. Geralt’s hand snapped out, fingers wrapping around the hand gripped on the neck of the lute, yanking the wide-eyed, startled, dripping man back into the water. The boy yelped, flailing his arms as he was pulled headfirst into the water. Geralt wrenched the lute from his grasp and held it out of the way of the splashing. He watched as the mans legs grew together into a singular fin all the way up to his waist, scales glistening a sea-foam green that perfectly blended with the water. Gills grew on the side of the man’s neck and his teeth elongated into fangs, which he bared at Geralt with a hiss.
Geralt held his other hand up by his shoulder in a gesture of surrender, “I just want to talk.”
The siren coiled up like a snake about to strike and Geralt held the lute over the water. “Attack me and she goes in.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Geralt lowered the lute to the water. The siren feigned nonchalance, picking at something on the claws of his fingers. When the strap brushed the water, the siren yelped and held out his hands as if the stop the Witcher.
“Alright. Alright! Stop! What do you want?”
“The gods awful singing. Stop it.”
“Excuse me?! They may be young, but those children are getting along wonderfully! I have high expectations for quite a few of them to become excellent Lures someday.”
“Lures?”
“Yes Lures. Enticing humans into the water. What’s a proper word? Hunter? Whatever you lot call them.” The siren sassed as if this is common knowledge that sirens must be trained in their art of hunting. Geralt hummed.
“Well, your classes are annoying the town up on the cliff. They’ve sent me to quiet whatever is making a ruckus down here.”
The mans bright blue eyes strayed into the water like he could see the knife strapped to Geralt’s thigh through the murky blueness. Geralt stood still under his scrutiny. The siren started to hum and the wolf pendant on Geralt’s chest vibrated as well, holding the siren song at bay. The man’s voice had a strange musical quality to it when he spoke, his voice seemed to pull Geralt in, even with the pendant keeping most of the magic at bay. The siren’s expression shifted from one of annoyance to intrigue and seduction. His tail swishes in the water, pushing him gently toward Geralt in the water.
“And just what do you plan to do about our singing, dear human? Tell me the truth, now.”
“Make a trade. Lute for silence. Find somewhere else to do your classes.”
The siren hummed in thought but didn’t respond. He eyed Geralt up and down, and entices, “What’s your name?”
“Geralt.”
The siren lit up in a way Geralt didn’t expect, eyes changing from dark with hunger to bright with excitement.
“Oh, I’ve heard about you! Geralt of Rivia, the famous Witcher! Come to visit my new home, how exciting!” His voice doesn’t hold any Lure to it anymore and Geralt relaxed minutely, pendant going still around his neck. The siren’s tail flicked in excitement.
“I’ve a better deal.”
“Hm.”
“I’ll tell the other professors to move our classes and you give me my lute back and let me travel with you for a year. I’ll stay out of your hair; you won’t even know I’m there. I’m in desperate need of new content to sing about and the life of a Witcher is perfect for my songbook.”
Geralt thought it over. He’s sure, once on the road for a few days, the siren will beg off, find the nearest river and make for the ocean, bored out of his mind and tired of the grunge of life on the road.
“Fine,” he growled and climbed the stairs out of the water. The siren seemed unfazed by his nakedness.
The siren beamed, showing off a mouth full of fangs.
“Brilliant! You can call me Jaskier, by the way. I’ve got to get my stuff and inform the academy that I’ll be taking leave, but I’ll meet you at the edge of town! Oh, the children will be so excited. I’ll have such tales to tell them upon my return.” With a flick of his tail, he darted off. Geralt watched his scales gleam in the water as he sliced through the water down the canal and out of sight.
He quickly redressed and set off for the edge of town. He’s climbing back the way he came when he heard panting behind him.
“Were you trying to leave me behind? You were supposed to wait for me!”
“Please, tell me you’re dressed.”
“Of course, I’m dressed, I’m not an imbecile.”
“Hm.” Geralt glanced behind him to see Jaskier in a deep green doublet open to a white tunic tucked into green trousers. Completely impractical for travelling. His lute is strapped to his back, along with a small pack. Geralt picked up speed as best he can.
“Oi! Slow down you oaf. One would think you’re trying to lose me.”
“Hm.”
“Well that’s rude, I thought we were friends.”
Geralt stopped and turned to the siren. “Come here.” He gestures the smaller man closer.
The man stepped forward eagerly and promptly darted out of the way of Geralt’s fist. He bared pointed teeth at Geralt in retaliation but doesn’t seem too put off, still following after Geralt, just out of arms reach.
“You need to put those away when we get to town.”
Jaskier stretched his jaw and sharp fangs turned into human teeth.
When they come within sight of Roach, tethered to the tree, Jaskier beamed and bound forward, cooing to Roach and petting her mane. He seemed so excited, Geralt didn’t have the heart to tell him off. When he tried to climb into the saddle, Geralt gripped him by the hips and pulled him off. Jaskier shrieked in surprise and it hurt Geralt’s ears. The Witcher set him on the ground and saddle Roach instead.
“You walk.”
*****
Four months later and Geralt swears the siren would have been tired of him by now. And yet he’s still here.
Geralt finds that he doesn’t want Jaskier to go.
Not that he would ever tell him that.